Skeins of Silk
by FizzyLemon
Summary: "When you visit me, bring me a yard of silk," He peppered my throat with kisses. My words were a sigh on parted lips. "A yard of silk, but no wider than my finger. With it I shall make a ladder, and we shall run away together,"
1. Chapter One

My mother says the faeries brought me.

She said that they laid me in her garden under the light of a new year's dawn, and wove my hair with the sun. On and on they spun until the light was so bright, it filled her yard and brought springtime early into the dead of January. In the magic of her garden I grew stronger and stronger until I caught the unwelcome attention of a little man who lived on the other side of her wall. One night, when he thought the world asleep, he climbed the wall and began to steal from my mother. He stole carrots and onions, parsley and mushrooms. Her strawberries were pilfered as well as more than a dozen heads of lettuce.

"Then," my mother likes to say. "He saw the source of the summer and his greedy little heart desired that as well. So he sought to steal you from me."

My mother never let him get the chance.

"How dare you!" She screeched, flying into a rage. "I would have let you take what you will, if only you had asked! Yet you come into my home like a common beggar, and seek to take my light and joy!" She cursed the man with blindness evermore, until he found his true heart's desire. Without sight, and desperately trying to flee her wrath, he scrambled over the wall and fell to his death. That night she packed our belongings and fled with me into the forest. Deeper and deeper she went, until even the stars were blotted from sight. It was then, when she sensed the moon directly above us, that she took away my wrappings and let the light of my hair shine forth. It broke through the trees and swallowed the darkness, leaving us in a meadow-like ring of trees. Yet in the center one was untouched. A strong, ancient Oak that had no fear of my power or hers accepted us. It opened itself to us and every year grew with me.

It was only after all threat had ceased to be that she realized she had no name for me.

"That is why," She croons, stroking my yards of hair. "That is why I named you after the only sensible thing, my flower. That is why you are my Rapunzel."

* * *

I could tell that outside my window the sun had turned everything hot and muggy. The cicadas were nearly screaming, and almost half a dozen birds had flown inside to take refuge. They twittered together in the makeshift bird baths I had erected, ignoring me completely. I reclined just inside the window, curled into a niche the tree had grown. Mother always said what a blessing it was to have this as a home. I had swung around and climbed the tree time and time again, so I knew that outwardly it appeared to be a simple, albeit enormous, oak. Its branches held nests galore, and shaded those who lived on the forest floor.

As I watched the birds flit about, I wondered what it was about our home that entertained them. Everything had grown into place as I aged. The kitchen was functional, the bedrooms spacious. At one time branches had formed a climbing area for me in a room. Those had grown and stretched to form a loom, and I was certain the trunk had widened to accept new rooms for the paintings that kept me occupied, and my ever growing collection of oddities the birds brought me. Mother brought me bits and pieces to make it our own. I had a beautiful, carved chair made from driftwood and a collection of silver dishes. Larger furniture had formed directly from the tree itself, like my dresser and my bed. Mother provided a wonderful, heavy quilt during the winter but for the moment I had only the cotton blanket I had woven years before.

I reached out the window and twisted my hand in the air, feeling the warm breeze as it tickled my fingers.

"Rapunzel!" My mother's voice sounded from far below, and I pulled my hand back inside. I knew what she wanted and what I would have to do, but even with what little company she was I enjoyed the quiet without her. She brought a sense of urgency and panic that I could do without.

"Rapunzel, let down your hair!" My mother demanded. When I looked out the window, I saw her tucking the hood of her cloak more tightly around her slim figure. She glanced around uneasily, as if the depths of the forest was listening to her every word.

"Oh! Of course, Mother! Just a moment!" I set to work yanking and arranging my long hair into a manageable rope, then fastened it around a large hook outside my window, then another inside to keep myself from being pulled along with her.

"Rapunzel, darling, you do this constantly! It shouldn't take so long!" She caught my hair as it tumbled down to meet her, and I peeked down to see that it was nearly sweeping the dirt. For some reason my heart lurched at the sight. My scalp ached horribly, and my neck throbbed. I tried to keep my golden hair as weightless as possible, suspending it around what I could. Yet the pain never left; and I was never allowed to cut it. "_A gift from the gods,"_ Mother would whisper as she combed it free of tangles. _"A gift you must never refuse. Never, my flower,"_

"I'm sorry, Mother. I'm sorry for a delay," It may have helped if she installed some sort of ladder or the tree grew steps...my mother was not a light woman, and her added weight left my head splitting. As she stepped into the window I unwound my hair and piled it onto a chair, then sat for a moment massaging my scalp. After depositing something in the kitchen mother joined me with an ivory brush. "Did you have a good day, Mother?" I inquired, watching as she shrugged the forest green cape from her shoulders. Her curly raven hair sprang from its confines of the hood and she ran pale fingers through to loosen them. Her generous mouth turned upwards in a smile.

"I did, Flower. Come closer, sing for me. I'll clean your hair for you," She took a seat and motioned me near. I folded myself in front of her, hugging my knees to my chest as she hefted my hair closer, piling it to one side as she spread a generous portion across her lap like a golden blanket. "Sing about the stars, Flower," I closed my eyes and swayed side to side in time to the brush moving down through my hair, and soon felt a song bubbling free. The birds quieted as I sang, and I was certain even the wind stilled. I could feel the tingles that began in my scalp and moved through my body, and Mother made a sound like a sigh. Encouraged, I moved the melody into one about the sky. For hours we sat together in the music and the light, and once I had finished Mother stood and gave my head a soft pat.

"Thank you, Mother. That was perfect," I trailed behind her as she made her way into the kitchen, leaving a path of hair in my wake. "What did you bring for me?" I peered into the room with a smile as she presented me with a small basket. It smelled warm and inviting, and when I peeled back the cloth covering I was elated to find several fresh loaves of heavy, dark bread. Raisins studded them like diamonds. Alongside the treat was a small, ceramic jar of butter. My mouth watered.

"A loaf a day, for while I'm gone. I've also stocked you with apples, already cooked potatoes, and some cold chicken. You should be fine. Are you certain you wanted that paint and those brushes for your birthday? It's a full day to the village that I can buy them from. Wouldn't you rather have a nice new dress?" Mother frowned and brushed my hair from my face, watching anxiously for my expression. I beamed.

"I would love to do a portrait of you, and I'm nearly out. I make what I can, but I've never gotten your eyes right. Please, Mother? It _is_ my eighteenth birthday,"

She nodded and placed a kiss on my forehead. "Then I'll finish packing at once, so that I can be back quickly. I'll have food enough on my trip, so just get my gowns together," With that she was off.

I did as she asked, washing and hanging her traveling gowns just outside the window. When the sun had them warm and smelling of the gardenias that tangled around the tree I brought them in and packed them, as well as a fistful of coins. I didn't know the value of them, Mother insisted it was pointless, but I knew villages and towns desired them. Hoping she had enough I wished her a safe journey and let her down once again. I looped my hair around the hooks surrounding the window to create a hammock and watched as she disappeared from sight. The wind rocked me in my make-shift bed, and the sun warmed my skin. I could feel my eyes growing heavy, my hands growing limp, and as the darkness of sleep stole upon me I vaguely felt what remained untied of my hair falling down, down, down...


	2. Chapter Two

I woke to a series of frantic, unwelcome tugs. I tipped from my hammock, crashing back into the tree with a thud that bruised my elbow. A scream of fright came from further below, and it was only when I made to run from the window that I realized some..._thing_... was fastened onto my hair. Unable to make out the figure and unable to shake it loose without tearing my precious hair to shreds I began to pull it back in. Was there a weapon nearby? Something to defend myself with? My eyes landed on the kitchen, and I gleefully hoped Mother forgot a knife. The moment I had enough hair _inside_ the tree I ran for the other room. My heart dropped to my stomach when I realized how spotless the surfaces were. All I could spot was a cast-iron skillet, which my hands claimed.

I felt my hair slacken just as two large feet thudded on the floor. The blood drained from my face and suddenly my heart was a frantic bird, trapped within a too-small cage. It battered against my chest as the steps approached my hiding place against the wall.

"Hello?"

The voice was deeper than Mother's and fueled my panic. After all this time, I had been found. By now the sun was casting the man's shadow in my direction and several moments later I whirled through the doorway, swinging the pan in front of me. A calloused hand caught it mid-swing, the large fingers encasing not only the handle but my own slim fingers. I could see a firm, square jaw that was shadowed by dark stubble. I followed the jawline up to a deeply frowning mouth, past a larger nose than mine or Mother's and ended at a pair of angry, confused, deep blue eyes. I felt the world quaking as I stared into them, gasping like a fish.

"What the bloody hell do you think you're going to do? Is this all your hair? Miss, what are you - Miss? Miss, can you hear -"

No, I couldn't hear. I was drowning in his eyes and my heart was beating so quickly I couldn't feel it. The pan clattered to the floor and I swayed where I stood before the floor rushed up to meet me.

"Whoa! Hey, careful now!" The words were coming through water, and my ears heard them warped and distorted, like when Mother sang her own songs, down at the base of the tree. I tried to push out words - tried to tell the stranger to _leave_ \- and barely managed a groan. Suddenly I was weightless, tethered to gravity only by the tug at my scalp. I could feel myself being lifted, but was too limp to care. I could barely focus on my breathing, let alone freeing myself. Then I could feel my bed at my back, the soft blankets pulling me in deeper and deeper until I was only vaguely aware of the sounds going on around me. They came in at strange intervals, but eventually I was able to wake myself to the sound of a knife pulling smoothly down my wooden cutting block. My eyes opened without hesitation.

"So. the damsel is awake?"

I blinked at the intruder and frowned. He was sitting at my table with the basket at hand, his muddy boots propped up on the carved wood. He leaned back in _my_ chair, threatening to topple it. Half of one of Mother's beautiful loaves was gone, and what I guessed was most of the butter. "You're a man," I accused, finally sitting up. The shock of this person suddenly appearing in my home had fled in the wake of righteous anger. "Who are you? Why are you eating all my food?" I swung my legs over the side of the bed and moved slowly towards him, studying him intently. I'd never seen one before. A man. I'd had them described and seen Mother's crude drawings, but his hands looked rough from work and not stained red with the blood of the innocent. The elaborate drawings in my books helped even less, because he lacked the bare chest, curling hair and flawless skin.

"I was hungry. Surely a few rough loaves can't be all you have to eat," He spoke around a mouthful of the stuff and glanced towards the kitchen uncertainly. "This is a pretty elaborate set up to only have bread and butter,"

"What if it is?" I stomped towards him and snatched the remaining loaf from his grasp and whirled back towards the kitchen. "For your information I have bread, butter and potatoes.

"Well excuse me for being actually hungry. Just because you live in a tree doesn't mean you have to eat like a bird." I heard the chair scrape away from the table and those disgusting books stomped towards me. "So ah, why exactly _do_ you live in a tree?" He was leaning against the door frame when I turned around, his arms crossed over his chest. My stomach flipped strangely as he smirked at me.

"I like being up high," I said quickly. "Why'd you climb my hair?"

He choked out a laugh. "This is really all your hair? Every inch of it?"

"Of course! Whose else would it be?" I pulled some of it closer instinctively.

"Well, I uh, I can't answer that. I've never seen anyone have hair this long before. Isn't it heavy?" He bent down and lifted a section of it with both arms, weighing it with a frown.

"Just who are you?" I gave my hair a solid yank, pulling it from his grasp. "What are you doing here?"

"I was running away, actually, from some palace guards. I don't think they'd follow me this far out. It's miles and miles from the village. I didn't think there would be anything more to hide in than a tree, and this one was impressive. I saw your ah, your..._hair_ and thought it was some kind of vine hanging down. I grabbed on and climbed."

"Because a blonde, hairy vine makes sense?" Even I knew it didn't. "Just who are you?"

"Sorry about that, the sight of hundreds of feet of hair was a little jarring,"

"Seventy," I grumbled, crossing my arms as he stepped closer. "Just seventy feet."

He smiled and swept into an elegant, almost mocking, bow. "I'm Flynn Ryder, and you are the strangest damsel in distress I've ever seen."


	3. Chapter Three

"I'm Rapunzel." I answered after a moment's pause. _Flynn._ I'd never heard a name like that before, but I liked it. He looked at me like he was waiting for me to say something. "What?"

"Rapunzel? Like the flower? Rapunzel what?"

"Well, yeah, like the flower. I guess. What do you mean 'Rapunzel what'?"

I was startled when he suddenly laughed, but didn't not like it. There was a certain...sound to it I liked. Mother's sounded scornful many times, but his was only...delighted. I stood frowning at him until he realized whatever was so funny to him meant nothing to me, and he grew quickly somber.

"Well, ah, my first name is Flynn and my surname is Ryder. You don't, ah, you don't have a surname?" Now he seemed as confused as I was. Mother was...well, she was simply Mother, but when I'd asked her name other than that she'd told me Gothel. Saying the names together had felt wrong, and sent unwelcome shivers over my arms. Almost as though it summoned something dark and angry.

"No, I'm simply Rapunzel." He was in front of me again, suddenly, and was bowing before I had a chance to react to the sudden advancement. He'd taken my hand in his and gently kissed the back of it.

"Oh, not simply." He smiled up at me and my heart thudded in my chest. I giggled against my better judgement, not understanding what I even thought was so funny. "So, Rapunzel, you live in a tree and you have hair that is seventy feet long..." He released my hand and stepped away to further inspect everything around him. "I don't see a door anywhere, and there's only the one window. How do you ever leave?" He picked up a carving I was still working on, a misshapen bird, and turned it over in his hands. "I will admit, I was trying to leave of my own accord and I couldn't quite figure out how to move your hair..." He set the figure back on the shelf he'd plucked it from and went around looking over my paintings.

Why did I feel so...strange? I'd never had such a fluttering rising up in me. "I don't." I said, carefully beginning to braid my hair into a rope for him to descend. "I don't leave. I never have." His eyes widened and he dropped one of my paintbrushes. "Why are you looking at me like that? It's just...it's not safe." Flynn shook his head.

"Look, I know I came in here to hide but that doesn't mean the world wants _you_ dead. Just me." He sat himself on my bed and glanced around. "So you've never felt the grass under your feet."

"No."

"What about river rocks? Have you felt those?"

"What? No. What's so special about that?"

"Moss?"

"That grows further down on the tree, so I've seen it but I -"

"A horse? You've never ridden a horse?"

"Goodness, no! I've never even seen one! Why are you asking me all these questions?"

He watched me braid my hair and looked completely bewildered, like the first time Mother brought me cookies. "You've really never left? Not even once?"

"Well, no, I -

"Here, let me help." He came to me then and took a seat on the floor, lifting sections of my hair as we made it into an easily climbable rope. It went faster with help and didn't require as much snagging or tangles. "Now, show me how to did that earlier. Made it so I could climb up without pulling you out." He lifted several feet of my hair and followed behind me as I walked slowly to the window. Was he going to push me out? I didn't thank him for his help although the weight I no longer carried was a relief.

"Step over there." I gestured, pointing several steps away. If he moved suddenly I could always trip him and make _him_ fall to his death. "Okay, so this gets wound here, and then I hook it here. Give it a few good tugs and..." I took hold of a pile of braided hair and threw it out the window. Gravity did the rest, and soon there was a beautiful golden rope swinging from the window. "So, um, now you can leave." I stood anxiously by the window as he peered down, wondering at his thoughts.

"What if I went down really quick, then came right back? I want to get something for you." He had a strange grin on his face, and adjusted a leather satchel slung around his hip. Why hadn't I noticed it before? I anxiously bit my lip and twisted my hands together. What was he going to get? I could always just pull my hair up the second he hit the ground.

"Um, okay. Sure." I braced myself as he climbed down, but he did much more of the work than Mother did. Still, the moment he dashed away from the tree I set to work yanking up the braid as quickly as I could. He didn't notice, he'd run off into the tree line, but I stayed by the window to see if he would actually return. Not much later he did, and he shaded his eyes as he looked up the trunk of the tree. The trees circling my home were casting long shadows towards the East, and although true sunset was several hours away I knew it wouldn't be long before the meadow was shrouded in darkness. Fireflies blinked above the forest as they summoned the stars, and I could almost see the ghost of a moon following quickly after the sun.

How long had I been out for? It had only been mid-morning, _maybe_ noon by the time Mother left. It couldn't possibly be sunset already!

"Rapunzel!" I glanced down to see Flynn at the base of the tree, waving one arm and clutching his satchel with the other. It bulged more than before. "Rapunzel, let down your hair!"

Against my better judgement, I did. It tumbled down and he caught it easily with one hand, then readjusted his satchel and grabbed it with the other. As I pulled my hair in, like I normally did for Mother, I was surprised at how quickly he came through the window. Had he actually been _climbing_? I unwound my hair from the hooks and followed him further in, towards my table. He sat himself down and turned the satchel over, unceremoniously dumping what looked like the entire forest onto the surface.

Flowers, stones, mushrooms and all sorts of things tumbled out, as well as a beautiful circlet of gold. It was this my fingers reached for first. It was weighty in my hands, and the gold was braided as beautifully as my hair. While thinner in the back, in the front the gold thickened to accommodate three large, clear stones. Flynn looked worried when I picked it up. "What is this?" I asked, slipping my hand through it. It dangled from my thin wrist. "What is it for?" Did the forest have things like this?

Flynn actually laughed at me, and I sheepishly put it back on the table. "Here, let me show you. You wear it on your head, like this." He leaned forward and gently set it on top of my head, brushing a loose bit of hair from my face. "Well now, that's a surprise." He gently helped me to my feet and led me to the glass Mother had gotten for me, the one I used to check if I had paint on my face. As he turned me towards the glass I watched my cheeks color. On my head sat the strangest thing, reflecting all sorts of colors as the light of the sunset crept in. "You actually make it look more beautiful. I didn't think that was possible." He laughed again and adjusted it, causing prisms of light to leap against the wall. "Rapunzel, I think you look just like a princess."


	4. Chapter Four

"Just like one?" I laughed, unable to help admiring my own reflection. Suddenly I knew what it was on my head. "This is a crown!" I turned to him and smiled. It was like in the books I'd read! The ones in the books were so large and heavy, though. They were described as breathtaking and awe inspiring. They weighed down the heads of the Kings and Queens so that when they were old they were grateful to pass it on to their children. This was...delicate and an easy burden. It fit snugly on my head and rested just atop my ears, the cool metal pressed against my forehead.

"So you've seen one before, then?" His tone was nervous and he quickly lifted the crown from my head and returned it to his satchel.

"Only in pictures. I've tried to paint one or two, but they never turned out quite right. That one is beautiful. Where did you get it?"

"I picked it up on my travels. I plan on selling it sometime in the future, but for now I'm holding on to it." He patted his bag and gestured out the window. "There are lots of nice things out there, but you can only see some." He suddenly changed the conversation, so quickly it took me a minute to catch onto his train of thought. "Are those fireflies? I've never seen so many." His voice was low, like he was worried about scaring them away.

"I like to sit and watch the them," I said, bringing an extra chair toward the window. I sat down and gestured toward the trees. "They start low, like they've been sleeping under the leaves all day. As soon as the sun goes down, they come up." As if on cue a dozen more rose, adding their lights to the evening display. "There are ones that come close, but then once a year I can see even more fireflies, but they go so...so _high_ that I don't think they're fireflies at all." Flynn looked my way with a half smile in place. "They're out...out that way." I pointed slightly to the left, my arm extended out the window. "They're orange and yellow and go up higher and higher. Mother says that they're the souls of the fireflies, and they become the stars. I've charted the stars, though, and there aren't any new ones. None of them fade. I don't think they are stars."

"And I think you're right." Flynn said suddenly, leaning precariously from the window to pluck a wide, purple flower. He tucked it into my braid. "In the kingdom, once a year, we have a ceremony for our missing princess." He watched the fireflies now, oblivious to my staring. "Everyone gets these big, beautiful, paper lanterns. The King and Queen send up the first one. They light it on the inside, and it floats up into the sky so the Princess can see it. I've heard they use magic to keep it up the longest. After that, the entire city send them up."

"That sounds beautiful." I stared out at the sky and then saw the most puzzling thing. A dark, orange light glimmered up from the forest below. A gathering of fireflies, maybe? "Flynn, you know so much about the forest. What's that?"

"Hmm? Oh, just a camp fire. People use it to - Aw, hell!" He pushed me away from the window, then lunged towards it again and yanked the shutters closed. I only ever closed them for storms, and hated it even then. For some reason being closed in with someone else made it worse. "Quick, put out the lights. They'll see them. It may be why they're so close."

"Who?"

"The...the men who are after me. They may even try to cut down the tree to get me down." He ran to one of the lamps and doused the little flame. "We don't want them to see us."

Cut down the tree? My heart leaped to my throat and I gulped down the fear that rose like bile. They couldn't! I hurried to help him and within minutes we sat together in the dark. He was close enough that I could feel his hand with my little finger. "So...what do we do now?" I whispered as my eyes adjusted. Flynn's silhouette shrugged. I could hear the distant sound of horses. "What's a camp fire?"

I don't know how long we sat and talked. He brought out the items from his satchel once our eyes adjusted, and explained every one to me. I showed him my paintings, although he had to nearly press his nose to the wood to make out the colors and the shapes. Every so often we would creep back to the window and peek down to catch sight of what we hoped would be darkness, but the fire was still in view. I'd never had someone in the tree with me for this long. Even Mother only spent a few hours with me, claiming it would be too suspicious to those who knew her - a home unable to visit was no home at all.

"They'll hurt you if they catch you, won't they?" I glanced his way, his eyes lit by the slight glow from the stars and moon outside. "Those men with the fire?"

"Absolutely."

"And it will hurt."

"Without a doubt."

I yawned and drew my legs close to my chest. "Well then, you'll have to stay here for the night. Hopefully they're gone by morning. You can sleep in the bed, and I'll make myself a hammock," I stretched out my arms and stood. "I prefer it that way sometimes. A hammock I mean, not the...you in my bed...thing..." My words trailed to a halt and I could feel him watching me. "Okay, well, good night!" I scrambled for a ladder that had grown into the tree and climbed onto a branch that the birds kept as a favorite (and I kept religiously clean) and began to unbraid my hair. I looped it around and around until I'd made myself a comfortable, swinging hammock and nestled down for what I hoped would be an easy night's sleep.

It wasn't.

My dreams were confusing at best, and generally upsetting. What looked like brightly colored suns, pink and gold and purple, spun madly just out of reach. Every time I leaped toward them something pulled me back. There was a thousand voices whispering they loved me, and a thousand more sobbing and screaming and cursing my name. I could hear the whisper of a threat but not see it, and every time I turned to look I was blocked by a rising wall of paper lanterns. The same sun shape decorated each of them, but when my fingers grazed them they suddenly burst into flames.

It was my own gasping that woke me, that ragged pull for air that wasn't enough, and I could feel tears staining my cheeks. I sat up in my hammock and suddenly wished I was in my own comforting bed. The swing of my hair wasn't helpful. I untangled myself from my self-made bed and dropped easily to the floor. I had to do something about the darkness. I had to chase it away, push it out...I spread my hair around the floor and around the branches. I tossed it onto furniture and spread it as completely as I could. Then, closing my eyes, I sang.

Mother once said that singing for myself was childish and selfish. It was hard to not agree with her, so I promised myself I was singing for the stranger cooped up by the men below. It was nice to have an audience. I could see the glow behind my eyelids and feel the power radiating from my fingertips. I was on a verse about the lanterns he'd described when I felt a hand touch mine. When I opened my eyes, my song trailing off, I found Flynn staring at me with a half glazed expression. I opened my mouth to ask him what he was doing and found him cupping my cheek with one calloused hand.

"F-Flynn?" I whispered, my hair still lighting up the closed space. "Flynn, are you awake?"

Then he kissed me.

I'd been kissed by Mother on the forehead and the cheek, I'd kissed her back in much the same way, but I'd never had the lips of another steal my air. I'd never had lightning set my skin aflame or been pulled into an embrace so tight I was unable to move. One of his hands still cupped my cheek, the other moved around my waist to pull me closer. My eyes fluttered closed and I sighed into the kiss, then draped my arms around his neck to bring myself closer. The glow began to fade, ever so slowly, and before I'd realized it Flynn had pulled out of my embrace.

His eyes opened and he looked around before settling his gaze on me. My arms were still around his neck, and my mouth red from his kisses. "So..." He started, clearing his throat. "What was that?"

"Um, I think it was a kiss..." I said with a laugh.

"N-no, the ah, the thing with your hair." He untangled himself and stepped away. "One minute I'm asleep, and then the next I'm awake and you're singing, and your hair was glowing," His words tumbled over themselves. "You didn't look like you! You looked like, like...I don't know, like a fairy or something!" He raked a hand through his hair and moved even farther away. "What the hell was that, Rapunzel?"


End file.
